


Fear

by scarletsptember



Series: Between Heaven and Hell [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture, Series, Torture, Trauma, Undiscovered Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsptember/pseuds/scarletsptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had gone through a lot in the past few years.  Beacon Hills hadn't seen much of a fight since the alphas, it had become the quaint, quiet little town that it once was. He never thought that he would be taken outside the grocery store parking lot and he didn't think that Chris Argent, the man who tried to help save him would end up next to him in this cell but here they were. Alone, missing and not sure if they were going to make it out. The only have each other to depend on. They only have each other to keep fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a series of fics. It will show the evolution of Stiles' and Chris's relationship. There is a lot, and when I say a lot I mean a lot of hurt in this part and the next part. There are going to be things that don't make sense because they don't make sense to Stiles, Chris or anyone else. There are things Stiles doesn't even know about himself yet but as he finds out these things will be explained in the next parts. This is a journey, although a very hurtful journey, it is one that both Stiles, Chris and you will go on.
> 
> And I might chicken out in the morning and take this down. I'm still on the fence about when I should post but I want to post it. You know the feeling. I know you do.

The pack meeting was boring. All the meetings lately had been boringly. Honestly, that was a good thing, having a blanket of calm and peace wrapped around the town of Beacon Hills. There hadn’t been anyone or anything trying to fight for control over the land here.

So Stiles sat patiently, by himself on the floor as he listened to the things Derek was telling the pack. He spoke of who they were, in the past, and who they should work to be. Ever since they had gotten a taste of fresh air Derek had started explaining and talking to the wolves as if they were part of his family and deserved to know about the history of werewolves. 

It was nice to hear. Really it was. Stiles liked to learn whatever he could about the pack so he would know how he could help when they needed it. But he wasn’t included, not really. He hadn’t been included since he wasn’t really needed to help research what was going on. 

He didn’t bother staying for the movie after the meeting. There wasn’t a point. Scott would hang out with Jackson and Danny while Derek took control of the couch and just listened to everything going on. If anything, Stiles felt like he had started to intrude on these sacred moments. He hadn’t ever been invited so why overstay his welcome? He smiled and waved goodbye claiming chores and errands that needed to be done. 

The grocery store was quiet this late at night. It didn’t ever seem like anyone in Beacon Hills shopped after eight o’clock so he had free reign over the aisles and he could park his cart right in the middle to compare which kind of fruit was the better deal of the week, price wise. He didn’t burn as much time as he had hoped to burn when he slid into line at the check-out counter. There was a lady stocking up on wine and paying with nickels and dimes, other than that there wasn’t much of a line.   
With a soft sigh, Stile glanced down at his basket that was loaded down with what he hoped was enough food to last he and his dad for the next two weeks. Knowing his luck he would be back in line by Friday behind the same lady counting out five dollars in nickels and dimes. 

“Stiles,” Stiles spun around, his hands going behind him to grab onto the handle on the shopping cart. He looked up at Chris Argent and fumbled with something to say. He wanted to say something like ‘fancy seeing you here Mr. Argent’. What came out was completely off target as his eyes dropped to the man’s own shopping cart full of food. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of food.” 

Stiles mouth dropped open in horror at what he just said and he smacked a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, kill me now.”

Mr. Argent let out a husky chuckle. “I agree. It’s a lot of food, food that I probably won’t have the pleasure of eating.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose and was finally about to move to put his goods on the belt. “That’s a bummer.”

“You’re here for your father and yourself?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded. “If I let him do all the grocery shopping we’d be on frozen dinner diet. The easier it is to fix, the better.”

Chris grinned, “He’s a lucky man to have you looking after him like you do.”

Stiles shoved a hand in his pocket before shrugging the compliment off. “I like to eat and it helps dad out, you know, me grocery shopping.”

“I’m sure.” Chris replied. 

Stiles started loading his buggy up with his bagged groceries before sliding his Dad’s debit card through the machine, gathering his receipt and waving goodbye to Mr. Argent wondering what sinister plot the man was cooking up. It wasn’t like him to speak with Stiles unless there was something hinky going on in the hunter world. With Stiles’ luck he’s going to be stuck smack dab in the middle of it. 

He was just about to put the last bags in the Jeep when he heard the quick shuffle of boots on pavement and he felt something slam into the base of his skull. He was dazed for a moment, his muscles all tensed up and he slowly turned to see what just happened. There were six, leather clad men circled around him with disgusting grins on their faces. 

“Six of you,” Stiles mumbled as he reached back into his Jeep and felt around for anything he could use as a weapon. The first thing he grabbed was a can of peas, a whole lot of good that was going to do him at the moment. “I should take that as a compliment.” 

“Not too smart for you to be out so late without your pack.” The man closest to Stiles grabbed something from his pocket and slung his hand out and Stiles realized that he was holding a baton, or knowing his luck some kind of Taser that was going to knock him right on his ass.

Stiles gripped the can tighter in his hand calculating his possible moves. If he could get close enough he could do some damage or at least take one of them by surprise. He took a deep breath and cast a quick glance around the parking lot and there was no one around to help him. He focused on the man in front of him and his mind was already made up. He didn’t have backup and if he was going to get hurt he was going to take someone down with him in process. 

Stiles lunged forward and slammed the edge of the can down on the side of the guy’s face. Stiles stepped back in shock when blood slipped from the guy’s hair line in fat lines followed by a strained moan before he finally slumped down to the ground. Stiles looked from the fallen man to the rest of the men surrounding him before he did the smartest thing he could think of. He hurled the can of peas at one of them and ran. 

He didn’t make it very far before a pair of hands were grabbing him from behind. Stiles jerked against the hold and when he felt it wasn’t letting up he twisted and kicked as hard as he could. There was a oomph of surprise before Stiles managed to get free from his captor and he scrambled towards the bright lights of the store. 

Stiles let out a groan when he was yanked back hard enough he was knocked off balance and he slammed his chin against the concrete. He could taste the blood in his mouth as he rolled to his back and scooted backwards. 

“Stiles!” 

Stiles looked over his shoulder and let out a little sigh of relief. He wasn’t as alone as he had thought he was. Mr. Argent had abandoned his shopping cart and was digging something out of his inner jacket pocket as he ran towards the group.

The distraction was enough to screw Stiles over. All of a sudden he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His head had been slammed back against the pavement and his entire face felt like it was on fire it hurt so badly. He gave in for a moment and curled into himself with his eyes closed. Once he felt a hand grip his jacket and begin to pull him across the parking lot he got with the program. He rolled as hard as he could and got free of the grip he was in. He looked up to see Mr. Argent moving like a blur with a knife in his hand. He moved and fought better than Stiles could have ever dreamed of fighting. 

It was then that Stiles had realized that he and Chris were only two men fighting against six. They weren’t making it out of this unless a miracle happened and he wasn’t leaving this all down to Mr. Argent, he had to find a way help. He got to his shaky feet and ignored the trembling that seemed to take over his body. He ignored the blood pouring from his nose and the corners of his mouth. Once he got close enough he jumped on the back of one of their attackers and slid his arm around the man’s throat and held as tight as he could. He knew he was accomplishing something when the man began to thrash and tried to beat Stiles off of his back but Stiles held on. 

He met Chris Argent’s cold eyes and he pulled his arm even tighter. He knew they weren’t getting out of this. There was no way the two of them could take out six people. They were lucky Stiles had taken one out with a can a peas and Chris had done something to one of the guy’s legs. This might be their only chance out of this, if he could take this guy down. 

Stiles rode his attacker down to the ground, slightly stumbling over the fallen body. He was trying to get to Chris, to stop the second guy from getting to him. He was almost there when he was hit so hard he just dropped. 

Barely hanging on he watched as Chris was wrestled to the ground face first. They both focused on each other. Bright green eyes were held wide open until his entire body seized. Stiles heard the painful groan just before he felt like his heart was going to slam right out of his chest and every muscle tensed up he thought he would scream from the pain. 

 

 

Stiles woke up with the worst headache imaginable. Even though there wasn’t much light wherever he was, it hurt to open his eyes. He felt like his entire face had been mangled. He couldn’t breathe out of his nose. His lips felt swollen and every sound was muffled. There was a spot on his back that felt like it was burning and the fact that his shirt kept rubbing against it made the feeling even worse. 

He tried to sit up and when he did he brushed against someone and nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Stiles.”

Stiles looked up to meet the exhausted eyes of Mr. Argent. He had cuts and bruises on his face, his voice was rough and his knuckles were swollen. Stiles looked down at his own hands and noticed it looked like one of his knuckles was completely out of place. He tried to flex his right hand out and grimaced at the pain that lanced through his hand and up his arm.

“Where are we?” Stiles slurred out from swollen and cracked lips. 

Chris let his head drop and he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Stiles repeated and started to take in his surroundings. Despite the cloying heat of the room, a chill ran down his spine at the sight of his prison. They were in a cell. It wasn’t a complete cell. Metal bars jutted into cement floors and ceilings while they were surrounded by filthy concrete. Stiles grimaced at the state of the floor, besides the dust there was dried, tacky blood covering the floor. Stiles tracked the blood and closed his eyes. He was sitting in the center of the worst of the blood. That was his blood on the floor.

“Do you know how long we’ve been here?” Stiles asked quietly. 

“I think two days,” Chris shrugged bumping shoulders with Stiles who grimaced. “It was better for you to be out of it though.”

“Why? What did they do?” Stiles questioned. 

“They didn’t do anything,” Chris answered softly. “They haven’t given us food or water. I had to reset your nose otherwise once I realized why you were having such a hard time breathing.”

Stiles looked down at Chris’s hands and grimaced. He could see where the man had tried to wipe his hands clean from setting his nose but he wasn’t all that successful. They remained stained. After a few minutes Stiles finally looked over at Chris and whispered, “Thank you.”

Chris cocked a brow, “I don’t see what you’re thanking me for kid.”

“Breathing is kind of necessary,” Stiles shrugged waving it off since Mr. Argent had done the same. “Do you know what they want from us?”

“No, but I do know they’re hunters.” 

“Hunters?” Stiles repeated in disbelief before he started picking at his jeans “They’re hunters and they took you? Seriously? Can I please just catch a break for five minutes? I’d settle for one.”

Chris didn’t have anything to really say to the kid. He knew the trouble he had gone through. It wasn’t like Beacon Hills was good at keeping secrets. As long as you knew how to smile and flirt you could get any information you wanted. He knew the kid had bad luck since his mother had died. Stiles was a kid who had to grow up fast. It was evident in the way he took over shopping for his father and himself, picking out healthier foods then what a teenager usually went for. The stories he heard from his daughter about how Stiles really was the backbone of the Hale pack. He did the research, he looked out for all the wolves, he pushed them to man up and get along. 

The kid might have gotten mixed up in something he shouldn’t have but that didn’t mean he deserved to be here, treated like this. Stiles’ face was a motely of bruises. His right eye was swollen shut, his nose had dried blood underneath it, his lips were busted and swollen, he had a gash on the back of his head and he was probably suffering from a concussion. There wasn’t anything he could really do for him though so he did what he could. 

He set Stiles’ nose so he could breathe better while he was passed out. He didn’t need to be awake for that. He tried waking the kid every once in a while, when he did he got a few incoherent mumbles before Stiles was out again.

Chris was pulled from his thoughts when Stiles snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Do you know why they took us?”

“They were after you,” Chris rubbed at the scabs on his hands. “One of them knew who I was so there’s no telling what they’re really after.”

Stiles nodded before he scooted down to try and get comfortable on the hard floor. Chris waited a few minutes watching Stiles rolling from one side to another, each time he made a soft sound of pain. He finally gave in and gestured to his lap. “Come here.”

“What?”

“You were sleeping like this when you woke up and it’s probably better if you lay with your head propped up with that gash on the back of your head and all the swelling.” Chris waited Stiles out before he tugged him over and had Stiles’ head pillowed on his thigh. “I’m not the one who is going to hurt you.”

Stiles nodded, “I know. But what if they come and I’m asleep?”

Chris scratched underneath his chin uncomfortable with how vulnerable Stiles’ sounded at the moment. “I’m going to do my best not to let anything happen to you. You know that right?”

Stiles nodded against his leg. “Just promise to wake me if something’s going on.”

Chris rested his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I promise.”

 

A soft pressure on his shoulder woke Stiles up. He blinked away the grit and fog of sleep as he focused in on Chris before his eyes darted around the cell trying to figure out what was going on. 

“They left food.” Chris set a hand on Stiles’ chest trying to calm the boy down. He shifted Stiles off of his leg as he crawled across the cell to swipe the sandwich and bottle of water before sliding back to Stiles. He flipped the Ziploc back over in hand before handing it over to Stiles. He cracked the water bottle open and took the first sip. “Eat. We need to ration the water though. There’s no telling what they’ll give us later on.”

Stiles tore off a piece of the sandwich before passing the baggy over to Chris. The peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth and it hurt to chew but it felt good to have something in his belly again. Once he had swallowed down the bite of sandwich he took a sip of the water and watched as Chris did the same. 

They ended up leaving half of the sandwich and half of the water for later. Stiles tapped his fingers against the concrete floor and took a deep breath. He looked over at Chris, “How long do you think we’ve been in here?”

It took a minute for the hunter to answer but it didn’t really matter when he answered because he didn’t know anything more than Stiles did. “It could be a day or two, maybe longer. We were both unconscious for a while.”

“What do you think they want?” 

Chris rubbed the palms of his hands on his dirtied jeans before he looked Stiles in the eye. “They were waiting for you in the parking lot Stiles.”

Stiles licked his lips and grimaced at the tangy taste of blood that was still lingering on his lips. “But what do I have or know that they would want? I’m not anyone important. We both know that.”

The look Chris gave Stiles was one of disbelief. He might not be as enthralled with the politics of the Hale pack like his daughter was but he had gleaned enough from both Alison and Scott to know that Stiles was important. Out of all the pack members, he was depended on since the very beginning of this misfit group of wolves banded together. If there was a question he was going to find the answer. If there was a problem he was going to fix it. That was who he was. There was a time that Chris would have loved to have shown Stiles the ropes, to teach him the things that a hunter learned growing up. 

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Stiles asked softly. Chris knew that Stiles had his own ideas of what was going to happen to them. If he didn’t, then Stiles was more delusional than he could afford to be. He understood why Stiles was asking the question though. He was afraid and sometimes having someone tell you that nothing bad was going to happen, even if you knew they were lying, was enough comfort that your body wasn’t about to break into two from the tension of waiting. He couldn’t lie to Stiles this time. This was a moment in his life that lying would do more harm than good. Stiles really needed to know what they were in for. He needed to understand that no matter what they needed to fight, to never give up on the fight because the moment they did, who ever took them and hurt them, will have won. So he told Stiles that. 

He told Stiles that they would try to get him to talk. They would do whatever they could and they both needed to hold out as long as they could because they were going to be found. There were people out there looking for them and they weren’t going to give up. There were a pack of werewolves, the Sheriff’s office and other hunters that would be searching for them until they were found. 

Then Chris took a deep breath and told Stiles what no one had ever told him. If you couldn’t hold out any longer, if you were afraid that they were going to kill you, you tell them whatever they needed to know. There are people out there that can protect themselves better. For god’s sake, there were werewolves and cops out there that were equipped to deal with this kind of threat. Stiles shouldn’t take this on himself to protect them. It wasn’t his job. 

Protecting people was Chris’s job, the Sheriff’s job, the wolves’ jobs. 

Chris knew his words feel on deaf ears when Stiles gave a sad smile, tears in his eyes and his body swaying in exhaustion, “It’s my job to protect them too.”

He didn’t know what to say to Stiles. There wasn’t anything else he could say to change the kid’s mind. So he nodded and gestured for Stiles to rest his head on the cleanest part of Chris’s jeans to get some more rest. 

“You’ll wake me up if anything happens?”

Chris nodded, his hand resting on Stiles’ shoulder, “Promise.”

 

Stiles woke up when Chris suffered from a coughing fit. Stiles moved off of his thigh to allow him more room and rested against the wall as well as he could. He offered Chris the half-empty bottle of water and the hunter only took a brief sip before he was recapping the bottle. They remained quiet in the cell waiting for whatever was to come. 

Stiles realized that this was why people went crazy when they were kidnapped and holed up like this. All they had was time to think. If you didn’t occupy your mind with thought then all you could focus on was the pain that your body was in and Stiles couldn’t think about that right now. If it hurt to breathe, to move and his vision went blurry if he moved too quickly he knew he was really hurt. There wasn’t any need to over analyze because he’d just think things were worse than they really were. 

He thought about his Dad and the last things he said to his Dad before he had been taken from the grocery store parking lot. He had said something about getting his dad real bacon because he had been eating so well lately and he was an awesome son. He heard the echoes of his Dad saying have a good day and love you son. 

His dad was probably trying to stay calm and figure things out. He was retracing Stiles’ last steps and talking to all of his friends. God, what a mess that would be. No one would really know much about what he had done that day. Gone to school, had lunch in the cafeteria without any of the pack because they were busy doing whatever they did. Then he went home, watched television while he ate a snack and wrote out a list of things he needed to get from the store and he headed out. No clues there. 

Then he thought about what the pack would be doing. Probably trying to follow his scent but the guys who attack him in the parking lot probably had a car so that was a no-go there. 

And Alison, what was she doing? Where was she staying since her Dad was also taken? He could only imagine what she was going through. She was probably driving herself crazy trying to figure out where they had been taken. 

Would they even make the connection that both of them had been taken by the same people immediately? Of course they would. The check-out girl saw him and Chris talking. There was the connection there. Everyone would be on the same page and have nothing to go on. 

And this is precisely why people lost it when they were taken hostage. You couldn’t stop thinking of the what-ifs or the things you had said to people before you were taken. All you can think about is the past few days hoping that if you died the people you cared about knew that you cared for them. 

“Stiles,” Chris whispered as he slid down the wall and curled onto his side. “Wake me up if something happens.”

Stiles offered his thigh as a pillow and rested his hand on the hunter’s shoulder. He could offer the little bit of solace to the man who had been keeping him sane the past few days. “I promise.”

 

He didn’t have a chance to wake Chris up. His eyes had barely opened when he heard the cell door open with a loud screech. Rough hands jerked Stiles up off the floor knocking Chris to the side as they dragged him out of the cell. Stiles struggled trying to get free of the hold he was in. His feet slipped out from beneath him and he let out a scream when his entire weight bore down on his shoulders. 

“You might want to stop fighting if you want us to fix your arm Stilinski.” 

That voice. 

Stiles recognized that voice. He could hear it in the back of his head after lacrosse games and in the locker room. It was an annoying, high strung, voice that wouldn’t stop nagging at him until he put a face to the name. 

Stiles tilted his head back to get a good look at who was dragging him out of the cell and away from the one person who was on his side. Greenburg. What the actual fuck was going on?

Stiles looked back over his shoulder at Mr. Argent. He was being held back by two men fighting just as hard as Stiles was to get free of the hold they had on him. Stiles knew what Chris was doing. Chris was trying to stop them from taking him wherever they had planned to take him. They couldn’t be separated. 

The more they fought though, the more their captors hurt them. The fresh cut on Chris Argent’s lip gave Stiles pause. If they were going to get out of this, they needed to know why they were here in the first place. If they wanted Stiles, well, they were going to get him.

Stiles twisted his lips together in a desperate attempt at a smile, trying to reassure Chris that things weren’t going to be as bad as they looked. Stiles let his entire body go limp and allowed Greenburg drag him out of the room without a fight.. 

“So Stiles,” Greenburg spat out as another pair of men came out of nowhere and began tying his hands together followed by his ankles. Greenburg jerked his head up and one of the men yanked Stiles’ hands above his head and Stiles let out a scream as they dropped the rope over a hook. 

Stiles vision was spotty when he realized his body had stopped swinging from the hook and the toe of his shoes just barely touched the floor from how he was set. He met Greenburg’s narrowed eyes and waited for whatever was about to come. 

“How long have you been hanging out with such scourge?”

Stiles choked out a laugh out of all the questions and out of all the words Greenburg could have used he didn’t imagine that it would be those words and that question. With a bold inhalation, Stiles answered him. “Since the day I was born.”

Greenburg grasped Stiles’ chin in his hand roughly. Stiles grimaced at the feeling of thick fingers digging into his jaw and cheeks. “I know you’re a freak but I didn’t think you had to go that low to make a friend. Werewolves? Really, Stilinski? You couldn’t find any humans who would take you in. Surely there was someone who would be your friend?”

Stiles stared at the boy before him. Greenburg normally wore his dark hair spiked and gelled to perfection. Now it lay flat. His normally dull green eyes were alight with violence. Stiles watched the way the muscles in his arms moved as he flexed his hands out. Stiles swallowed down his fear and looked Greenburg right in the eyes. “Why am I here?”

Greenburg gave Stiles a vile grin. “Well you see,” He chuckled at himself before continuing, “You know who the alpha is.”

“Everyone does,” Stiles shot back and Greenburg clicked his tongue. 

“You might want to keep that mouth of yours shut if you want to keep all your teeth.” Greenburg stood up and cracked his knuckles. “You know more than who the alpha is though, that’s what I’m getting at. You know who is considered part of the pack, you know how they operate. Out of all people in the world you are the one who keeps them together and functioning. You’re the glue. Do you know how easy it is to pick off a pack of wolves when one of them is in danger?”

Stiles didn’t answer. He waited for Greenburg to continue. 

“It’s easier than you would think.” Greenburg grinned.

“If you wanted to kill them you wouldn’t have done this to me.” Stiles responded. “So why am I here?”

Greenburg stood up and moved to stand close enough to Stiles that their breath mingled, “Do you know why your hunter in there has been watching you? Following you just as closely as we have?”

“No.”

Greenburg grinned, “It’s priceless. You really don’t know why you’re going to die.”

Stiles felt his heart drop at the words. He looked down at his feet and watched the way the soles of his shoes dragged along the ground in a slow sway. His weight hadn’t settled yet. His shoulders hurt so bad, his fingers had gone numb. 

“Would you like to know why you’re going to die?” Greenburg set a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and stopped the swaying completely. “Why we choose you of all the things that associate with the Hale pack?”

Stiles looked up, “If you’re going to kill me what does it matter if I know why you picked me?”

Greenburg narrowed his eyes and took a step back. Stiles thought he was going to go back to his chair but a meaty fist landed on his cheek and stole the air from his lungs. Stiles choked as he tried to gather the air that had been knocked from his lungs.

“Ask me why you’re going to die.” Greenburg threatened and Stiles kept his eyes locked with Greenburg’s keeping his mouth shut tightly. Stiles closed his eyes for a brief moment when a fist landed on his side. Taking a deep breath Stiles met Greenburg’s eyes once more. “Ask me why you’re going to die and how we’re going to destroy your entire pack.”   
Stiles didn’t ask. He wasn’t going to ever ask. 

Greenburg left him hanging. He was hanging for god knows how long. It was long enough for the rope to start digging past the first layer of skin on his wrists and the burn from the pressure of his own body weight fighting against him traveled from his arms down to his shoulders and settled in his belly until he vomited. 

~*~

Freezing water drenched Stiles from head to toe waking him up. He wasn’t sure if he was waking up from sleep or if he had passed out. When he came fully to his senses, Stiles couldn’t feel the upper half of his body. His toes were tingling and he losing all feeling in them. 

“Are you going to ask me now? Or am I going to have to force you?”

Stiles let his head hang and he waited for whatever punishment that Greenburg was going to dole out. 

The first punch to his stomach stole the breath from his lungs. The second was a hit to his face. He could feel the warm trickle of blood slide down over his lips. When a boot landed on his thigh and sent waves of fire down his leg, Stiles didn’t feel like any of it mattered anymore. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how long he managed to stay conscious, Greenburg was still going to be there and he wasn’t going to let things go until he got what he wanted. He was going to die. Out of all the things that could happen to him, Stiles never thought he would end up here hanging from a hook in a ceiling being beaten to death. There wasn’t anything he could do to change it. Greenburg had made up his mind and he was going to die. 

Greenburg was wiping his bloodied hands clean when a sadistic smile stretched across his lips and he let the white towel fall to the floor before disappearing behind the doors.   
Stiles finally let his eyes close and he reminded himself to take slow breaths so not to stress his lungs. He had nearly given in to the call of fatigue when he heard the scuffle of feet, the deep cussing and the sound of flesh being beaten. Greenburg was struggling to get Mr. Argent into the room and Stiles couldn’t do anything but watch as men gathered to help Greenburg and Mr. Argent had become victim to the same fate that Stiles had. 

Stiles looked over at Chris Argent and took a slow steady breath, trying to not breathe too deeply. He ignored the look of horror on Chris’s face and closed his eyes, fighting not to see all the apologies in the man’s eyes.

“You know,” Greenburg stood in front of them, glee dancing in his eyes. “There’s something I’ve always noticed something about you Stiles.”

Stiles let his eyes fall to his shoes. The white tips of his converse were spattered with blood, spit and vomit. He jerked back in surprise when Greenburg grasped his chin in hand and forced Stiles to look him in the eye. “You will take all the hurt in the world but once someone else is hurting, well, you break. Let’s see how long it’ll take you to break this   
time.”

Chris looked at Stiles with determination set in his eyes. Stiles didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what Chris was telling him. No matter what don’t give in. Once you give in, they don’t have a reason to keep you alive. You’re dead. 

The first blow was hard enough to make Stiles flinch. He knew it hurt but Chris didn’t show any emotion. He didn’t so any reaction to the pain. By the fifth blow Stiles looked away. He couldn’t see Chris suffer because of him. When Chris let out a pained moan Stiles opened his eyes and looked over at the man who had been taking care of him while he had been unconscious. 

His face was swelling and blood rushing to the surface far more quickly than had happened to Stiles himself. Chris knew what Stiles was thinking before Stiles thought it himself. “No. Don’t.”

Stiles closed his eyes ignoring the urge to keep his eyes glued to the man who decided Stiles was worth saving in the middle of a supermarket parking lot. He looked up at the ceiling searching for the right answer but when none came he heard his voice asking, “Why am I going to die?”

Greenburg halted his latest blow and moved in front of Stiles. His chest was heaving up and down with heavy effort. He looked Stiles up and down before he finally answered, “Because you are the key to ending the Hale pack. But if I don’t get what I need from you I have a backup plan. I’ll go after Danny, another human who got tangled up with the wrong kind of people. And if he can’t help me I’ll find Lydia. Slowly I’ll be taking out everyone important to them and it will destroy them wholly. Your death? If it doesn’t give me what I need in the first place, it’s the perfect starting point to putting an end to the Hale pack once and for all.”

Stiles choked and struggled against the ropes as his body was racked with hacking coughs. He couldn’t let Danny or Lydia go through a fraction of the pain that he remembered. He wouldn’t let that happen. 

He looked over at Chris and saw how he was barely hanging on to the last threads of his consciousness. Chris Argent was a man who put himself in the line of fire trying to protect him. He didn’t have any obligation to do so. It didn’t matter that he was a hunter. Chris didn’t know what was happening when he was being taken. Chris could have put his groceries in the back of his SUV and headed home. He didn’t have to stop but he did. He stopped to help a kid who did nothing for him but cause trouble.   
He needed to put an end to this now. No one else needed to get hurt. 

He waited until Chris gave in to the call of pain and eyes finally slipped shut.

Stiles faced Greenburg, “Let him go.”

“Pleading for the life of a man who thought you were a disgrace to human kind. How noble of you, Stilinski.”

“Let Chris go.” Stiles whispered not believing that he was actually offering to stay here longer, to endure much more of this. “Let him go home and keep me here. You’ll get what you need.”

“Bartering for your friend,” Greenburg shook his head. “I don’t think so Stilinski. Good try though. Just for that I’m going to let you hang out a little longer.”

Stiles watched as Greenburg turned and left the room. The door shut with a heavy slam and Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let out a blood curdling scream. Every ounce of pain, every second of fear, it all poured out of his body with that one sound. His body arched from the force of his screams. He didn’t stop until his vision blacked out. By then it didn’t matter if anyone heard him or not. He was as good as dead anyways. 

~*~

When Stiles woke up Chris was gone and he was curled into a ball on the ground in the cell they had been sharing before. There was a peanut butter sandwich and a bottle of water sitting right next to the door. Stiles scooted along the edges of the wall and towards the food. He was so hungry. He tore into the sandwich not caring that he should have slowed down but all he could think about was the way his stomach was growling so loud it drowned out the sound of his heart beating in his ears.   
He ate the sandwich too quickly it made him feel like he was going to be sick so he sipped on the warm water and let all of his weight rest on the wall behind him. He could hear someone walking around above him but that didn’t matter much to him. Not anymore. 

Stiles looked down at his hands and grimaced. His knew his eyes were nearly swollen shut from the way his skin pulsed around the sockets of his eyes. His hands though, they were probably just as bad as his face. His wrists were covered in bandages and dried blood peeked out from the edges that Stiles couldn’t be sure how injured he actually was.   
His chest and his stomach hurt. Not a dull achy hurt. It was more of a sharp stabbing pain. It didn’t surprise him. There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that said if he didn’t get help soon he probably wouldn’t stand at chance at being anywhere close to okay. If they went for another round Stiles wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it through this.   
The people who had been looking for him had probably given up trying to find him alive. Instead of their usual scent dogs, they would use the dogs that were also trained in finding cadavers. It was the next step if a missing person had been gone over a certain amount of time. If the pack hadn’t found him, Stiles doubted that the dogs or the Sheriff’s Office would. He was kind of out of options. 

He and Chris were far too injured to come up with some kind of daring escape plan. That was if Chris was still here and they found each other. Even if they did find each other there was some serious doubt as to how they would even make it out of this place. Stiles knew his own condition was bad enough he could only imagine how Chris was fairing.   
They weren’t going to make it out of this. There was no way that they were going to make it out. If things stayed how they were, Stiles was alone in this now. He didn’t have someone who made him feel the tiniest bit safe. No. He was alone. 

He was alone and he didn’t fully understand why he had been taken in the first place. None of this made any sense to him. He wasn’t important, he didn’t make a difference. He was just Stiles, the token human who was more of an annoyance than anything useful.

The door to the cell opened and Stiles looked up at Greenburg. His eyes started burning and no matter how hard he couldn’t stop himself. He was a kid for god’s sake. He was supposed to break long before now. He shouldn’t ashamed of this. 

“Figured I’d give you a few days to think everything over.” Greenburg squatted in front of him and picked at the gauze on Stiles’ wrists. “Your pack, are you going to tell me where to find them and make things a little easier? Or are you going to do things the hard way?”

Stiles shook his head, “You never told me what I needed to tell you.”

Greenburg gave a hard shove to Stiles’ shoulder and down Stiles went. He stared up at Greenburg from the floor and waited. 

“Where are they?”

Stiles knew where they weren’t so he answered, “Abandoned train station.”

Greenburg grasped Stiles’ wrist and pressed hard against the wound and watched as Stiles’ eyes watered and his face turned a bright red. 

“There’s no trace of them there. You want to tell me the truth now?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell the human just in case something like this happens. They knew I’m weak.”

“Who’s part of the pack?”

Stiles swallowed down the fear in his chest and answered, “Derek Hale.”

“Who else?”

“Peter Hale, Laura Hale…” Stiles bit off a scream when Greenburg let his weight rest on the hand he had on Stiles’ ribs. Greenburg stared at Stiles long and hard before he seemed   
to come to a decision. With a snap of his fingers, Greenburg had two guys come into the cell and lift Stiles up off the floor and they dragged Stiles back to the main room. Chris had been moved to a chair and was unconscious. At least Stiles could tell that he was still breathing. 

“Up you go,” Greenburg muttered as Stiles’ hands were bound once more and lifted above his hand so he was hanging again. Stiles ignored the way his muscles protested with agony and he tried to focus on getting his body to stop swinging. 

“Now, you’re going to listen to what I want and then you’re going to tell me what I need to know.”

Stiles looked up at Greenburg, waiting. 

“Where is the Hale pack?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles answered and closed his eyes waiting for whatever punishment was to come. 

“For some reason I don’t quite believe you Stilinksi.” Greenburg grabbed at the back of Stiles’ neck and pinched hard. Stiles ignored the burn from the pinched nerve and grit his teeth together. “You will tell me where they are or you’re going to end up worse than the hunter over there. A pinched nerve is only an appetizer of what it’ll feel like when I skin you alive.”

“Is that what you are?” Stiles let out a sardonic laugh and choked on the pain in his ribs, “A hunter out to kill the wolves?”

Greenburg tilted his head and his eyes morphed from human to slits surrounded by bright yellow and he growled low and deep. “I’m not a hunter. Not even close.”  
Stiles stared at Greenburg in confusion. He was a wolf but not entirely. He was something else.

“Someone has to get rid of the pack that doesn’t deserve the title.” Greenburg answered with a snarl.

“I don’t think you’re going to accomplish what you’re setting out to.” Stiles breathed out, “But it never hurts to try, right?”

Greenburg’s fist landed just near Stiles’ kidney. “I don’t get you Stilinski but then again, I never did. You spend all your time hanging out with people who don’t even like you. I could smell the frustration lingering around Scott every time you were near. You didn’t even know it did you? Your best friend can’t stand to be around you anymore. Not only that but have you watched the way your father acts when you two are around each other? He’s not angry with you, he just can’t stand you.”

It was meant to be hurtful. That didn’t mean that what Greenburg was spitting out was true. It was meant to break him. Stiles knew that deep down but he had seen the way that Scott looked at him from time to time. It was like he couldn’t get away quick enough. He never wanted to hang out anymore. Not even when he had a free day away from Allison. He’d rather hang out with Derek than his best friend. 

“You see exactly what I mean, don’t you?” Greenburg whispered. “You don’t matter to who you thought your best friend was so why do you think you matter to a pack of wolves? They’re using you. They’ve been using you from the very beginning. They used you to get to Scott and now they’re using you in order to save their collective asses. So I’ve got a question for you Stiles. Do you know how long you’ve been missing? How long it’s been and they still haven’t found you? They’re werewolves for god’s sake, supernatural senses and you’re still here with me.”

Stiles looked down at the floor and remained silent knowing Greenburg would come up with some kind of answer whether it is true or not. 

“You’ve been missing for seventeen days.” Greenburg leaned in closer, “Your Dad, he’s been all over the news asking for your safe return. He doesn’t think you’re alive anymore. You could tell when he stopped hoping for you to come back home and started hoping that he’d at least have a body to bury. It wasn’t in the words that he said. It was in his eyes. I’ve never seen someone so lifeless until I looked at your Dad on the television this morning.” 

“If I’m not any help to you why don’t you give him the body he’s asking for?” Stiles rasped out as he focused on the ground. He ignored the sharp intake of breath to his left. He ignored the way Chris shifted in his seat trying to get free from his bindings. It didn’t matter anymore did it? They didn’t care. No one was coming for him. His Dad, he might still be looking but he wasn’t looking for his breathing son. The pack hadn’t found him yet so they probably weren’t going to find him anytime soon. 

When Chris’s shifting became frantic Stiles looked up to see what was happening. Greenburg was not a kid anymore. Stiles couldn’t put into words what Greenburg had shifted into but he was not a wolf. He was snake-like. His tongue forked and tasting the air. His body slithering closer until Stiles could feel the heat from the scaly skin against his cheek. 

“You’re right you know.” Stiles whispered as he looked the monster in the eyes. “They have been using me from the very beginning. I’m just the kid who does the grunt work and who is bait for all the monsters out there. Maybe there was some elaborate plan and in the end they were going to dump me on the side of the road. So no, it doesn’t matter if I’m gone. You’re nowhere closer to where you were when you started and no one is losing anything by you killing me. I don’t matter.”

Stiles watched as the slit eyes narrowed before his entire body was shifted backwards on the hook and he could his entire face begin to burn. He caught how distraught Chris was before the sound of what he could have sworn was an explosion accompanied his blacking out. 

 

~*~

Stiles woke up in his cell. He was alone again and this time he couldn’t hear anything moving around. All he could hear was the soft whistle of air moving across the metal bars of his cell. The room was dark but he could make out the sandwich and bottle of water that had been left out for him. 

The only way he could tell how much time had actually passed since the last time he remembered being awake was by the state of the food left for him. The water was warm and the bread of the sandwich had grown stale. It didn’t matter that the food had been left out for what could have been days. Stiles still ate it. 

He ate and thought about how things would end up if he ever got out of here alive. He finished his sandwich off and drained half the bottle of water before he gave up on trying to picture life after this. In all honesty, Stiles had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to make it out of this situation in anything other than a body bag. 

Stiles wasn’t one to cry. It wasn’t something that he did, not since his mom. When he realized he was crying it wasn’t because he was afraid of dying or the fact that his entire body felt like it was ripping in two from inside out. No. He was crying because he knew how badly his father must be hurting, how badly he would hurt once they found his body. He knew the pack was searching for him and they weren’t finding him. He could feel the ache in his chest that they must be feeling. But somewhere deep inside of him, no matter how much he knew they cared about him, Stiles felt like they had given up on looking for him. They had given up and he wasn’t worth fighting for. He had never been worth a second of their time. He was just the barely tolerated mosquito they batted away. 

He let his gnarled fingers trace the bruises on his thighs. He could see the darker hues giving in to the lighter. He was healing. God how long had he been locked in here that he was healing? 

Taking a deep breath Stiles wiped his cheeks clean. He felt the air shift around him and his ears perked at the new feeling. Something was going to happen. He didn’t know whether it was going to be good or bad but something was about to change the rules of the game. 

~*~

Stiles woke up outside of his cell. He was sitting with his arms and legs tied to the chair and his head tilted back with light shining in his face. He blinked a few times trying to clear the grime from his vision before he realized where he was. 

They had set his chair in front of where Chris was bound to the wall. Stiles tried to shift in the chair so he could move to face Chris but the soft whine from Chris’s throat stopped Stiles before he moved. 

“Chris?”

The hunter let his head hang and he refused to look at Stiles. 

Stiles angled his head back trying to see Chris better. “What’s going on?”

The door to the room groaned in protest as it opened. Greenburg slipped into the room with a sadistic grin. He gestured behind him and Stiles cringed at the sight of one his cronies. He was wearing a utility belt and his hands rested on just above the belt on his hips, waiting to dole out whatever tool Greenburg wanted or needed. 

“I’ll tell you what’s going on Stiles.” Greenburg reached out behind him and light reflected off of the scalpel places in the palm of his hand. “I’m going to get you to talk no matter what it comes down to.”

Stiles bit into his lip, waiting for whatever punishment Greenburg was going to give him. But Greenburg walked passed him and straight to Chris. After a moment there was a shove to the back of Stiles chair, sending it sputtering forwards until there was no way that Stiles could lean back to see Chris. 

“Here’s the deal Stiles. I will ask you a question and you’re going to answer it. If I don’t like your answer, your buddy Chris here, well he isn’t going to be doing too well after a while. You got that?” Greenburg explained. 

Stiles stayed quiet until Greenburg kicked at the back of his chair. “I asked you a question. So you answer or I’m going to start carving Chris up before we get to the fun stuff. So do you understand me Stiles?”

Grinding his teeth together Stiles nodded, “I understand you.”

“Good to hear it.” Greenburg chuckled right before he pushed Stiles’ chair far enough forwards that Stiles had no chance of looking behind him to see how Chris was actually doing. 

“Who is involved with the pack?” 

Stiles took a deep breath before he answered Greenburg. “Well there is me, Derek, Peter.”

Stiles could hear the tap tap tap of metal against metal as Greenburg waited for more information but Stiles didn’t say anything. 

“Are you sure you want to go down this path Stiles?” Greenburg’s mouth dropped to a dark whisper. Stiles craned his head back as far as he could manage hoping to see some kind of signal from Chris but all he could see was the ceiling. “Can you handle knowing that you’re the person who is going to cause Chris to die? Can you take knowing that because of you Allison lost her last hope of having a family?”

Slamming his eyes shut, Stiles grit his teeth together. He had to remind himself that it was all talk. Greenburg wouldn’t hurt Chris badly enough. He wouldn’t risk killing the hunter without getting the information he needed. He would know if he needed to talk. Somehow he would know what Chris could take or would be willing to take in order to keep his daughter, kids who didn’t ask for the hand they were dealt safe. Chris Argent wasn’t a bad man. 

“I don’t know who else is involved.” Stiles whispered.

The way Greenburg laughed reminded Stiles of fingernails scratching against a chalkboard. The room had grown quiet all except the sharp intake of air from Chris. Stiles flinched against his restraints. He didn’t want Chris to hurt but they both knew they had a responsibility here. They had to protect the people they cared about. 

The sound of boots scraping against the floor and warm breath brushing against Stiles’ face forced him to open his eyes. He grimaced at the sight of blood on the blade of the scalpel. He held his breath as Greenburg taunted him, dragging the scalpel lightly against his cheek. 

“How much more blood are you willing to spill Stiles?” 

Stiles stared straight into Greenburg’s eyes, unwavering. He was going to stay quiet as long as he thought Chris could handle it.

Greenburg let out an exasperated sigh as he headed back towards Chris. He was quiet for a few moments, almost as if he was thinking over his next few questions. 

“Where is the pack Stiles? Where do they train? Where do they meet up? Where do they live?”

Stiles rubbed the side of his cheek against his shirt trying to get Chris’s blood off of his face. “Beacon Hills.”

Stiles couldn’t tell what Greenburg did to Chris but the moan was sickening. 

“Where at in Beacon Hills smart ass?” Greenburg barked out. 

“How are you not able to find them? If you’re some kind of hybrid, can’t you just sniff them out? Can’t you figure out of who is part of the pack? Why go through all of this trouble, why risk your life for information that you could find on your own?” Stiles snarled. 

Greenburg moved to stand in front of Stiles. Stiles’ eye immediately went to the forked tool in Greenburg’s hands. The prongs were coated in blood and it left Stiles wondering what kind of damage Chris had endured from his comments. 

“Therein lays the problem Stiles. I can’t sniff them out as you think I can. Someone has masked them from every other supernatural in Beacon Hills. We know they’re there because of the stories and the things that have been killed along with the stories that have been told. The old Hale pack, they didn’t have someone like the new one does. What I’ve figured out is that it all comes down to one person. This is what I know Stiles. Before you got involved we knew where Derek was. We knew where Peter was. We even knew what they were doing. If we really wanted, we could figure out what they were up to. Not that they ever got up to anything before you got involved. Now? They’re ghosts. So what conclusions can you draw from that Stiles?” 

Stiles’ eyes were glued to the tool in Greenburg’s hand, not sure if he should even try to answer or what would happen if he did. He knew why this was happening. Deaton had spoken with him about it after the Mountain Ash incident. There was something special in him.

“Well for those of us in the room who don’t know,” Greenburg gestured towards Chris, “You’re a little more than human, aren’t you Stilinski?”  
Stiles swallowed down the bile that threatened to leave his stomach. He stared down at the floor in front of him. 

“Tell the hunter what you really are Stiles. Tell him how your mother really died.” Greenburg snapped. “It wasn’t cancer! No, it was something else wasn’t it Stiles?”

Stiles brushed the side of his face on his shoulder and whispered out his answer. “She died because she pulled too much power from her core trying to stop Kate from killing the Hale family. She was being punished for not letting destiny play out like it should have. No one was supposed to make it out alive.”

Chris let out a small sound of despair before Greenburg kicked at Stiles’ chair once again. “Go on and tell him what you are now.”

Stiles stifled a sob as he spoke, “I’m just like her.”

“What was she? What are you?”

Stiles craned his neck as far back as he could because he needed to see Chris’s face when he told the first person besides his mother what he had become. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t face Chris so he finally answered Greenburg’s question. “A Mage.”

Greenburg chuckled, “But you want to know the real kicker? Stiles here, he isn’t trained like his mother was. So what he’s doing, protecting Hale pack? He’s doing it all out of love. He probably didn’t even know what he was doing. He was just doing it. So without Stiles’ say-so, no one but the people who already know about the pack will ever know about the pack. Sure they’ll know about the stories and the possibility of threat that could come from their presence but when someone wants to challenge Hale? It isn’t going to happen because Stiles here will kill himself in order to keep them safe.”

Greenburg moved around Stiles and back towards Chris. There was a loud moan of pain that caused Stiles to echo the sound before Greenburg started speaking again. This time he was speaking to Chris. 

“How’s it feel knowing that the boy you risked your life for is just like the rest of them?” 

Chris didn’t say anything just took the pain that Greenburg was dolling out. Stiles listened for as long as he could before he gave in. He could hear the soft drip drop of Chris’s blood pooling on the ground below him. The labor breaths grew louder and louder in his ears and Stiles couldn’t get away from it. 

This was his entire fault. If he hadn’t been talking to Chris in the grocery store, if he hadn’t gone looking for the other half of that damn body Scott would have never been bitten. If he hadn’t insisted Scott gain control, trust Derek and become part of that stupid pack, he wouldn’t know a damn thing. He wouldn’t be the key that Greenburg was looking for. He wouldn’t know anything and he wouldn’t be here listening to Chris be butchered while he was mere feet away. He wouldn’t be causing his dad so much pain because he had gone missing. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for how stupid he had been.

“I’ll tell you! Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you! Just let him go.” Stiles screeched out. “You have to let him go!”

“Stiles no, don’t.” Chris muttered out between deep breaths. 

“If I let him go,” Greenburg started as he rounded the chair to stare Stiles in the eye as he spoke, “You will tell me everything or I will kill you.”

“I understand.” Stiles nodded. 

Greenburg snapped his fingers and his goons waltzed into the room doing his bidding. Chris was dragged out of the room barely standing. The entire room dropped into silence   
before Greenburg smacked Stiles on the shoulder. “Get some rest kid. The next few days aren’t going to be easy for you. You’ll start talking tomorrow.”

~*~

Stiles had been left in the chair for the next day. The room stunk of his sweat and Chris’s blood. At least he had been dehydrated enough not to piss himself that badly as he waited. That was one smell Stiles wasn’t sure he could deal with. He planned out his answers. Most of them were half-truths that he could get away with telling Greenburg. The rest of them, well, he had gotten better at lying to werewolves so he might have the same ability with whatever Greenburg really was. He wasn’t going to give up the pack no matter how badly he had gotten hurt or if he got killed. He wouldn’t do it. No matter how much trouble they had gotten themselves in, Stiles still cared for each of them with every beat of his heart. 

The main door way clanged out and Greenburg stormed in dragging a chair behind him. He slammed the chair down in front of Stiles before sitting down. “Any questions before we start this thing?”

“Chris, where is he?” 

“He’s still here. I can’t let him go until I’m sure you’re going to tell me what I need to know.” Greenburg shrugged. “He’s alive and as well as he can be for the time being. The faster you talk the quicker he can get to the hospital and get the help he needs.”

Stiles nodded, “What do you want to know?”

“Where is the pack?”

Stiles tried to wet his lips before answering Greenburg but it served to irritate his already chapped lips. “The old Hale property.”

“Really?” Greenburg leaned back in his chair stunned. “Why that burnt out shell of a place?”

“Easier to train there.” Stiles shrugged the question off as if it were easily accessed information. “Too many stories of what’s happened there. It scares people, keeps them away.”

“Who’s involved in the pack, besides Derek and his Uncle?”

“Me,” Stiles answered slowly. “There were three others: Boyd, Erica and Isaac. They fled though. I don’t think they’re alive anymore. I know Boyd and Erica aren’t.”

“Who knows that werewolves exist?” 

“Me,” Stiles responded. “I needed to know why my mom died and my dad because of my mother. He doesn’t know how involved I am though.” 

“Who else?”

Stiles looked up with tired eyes hoping that his injuries and exhaustion would cover up the rest of his lies. “I don’t know. Derek doesn’t like me being around so he doesn’t keep   
me in the loop. He doesn’t like me.”

“That’s evident,” Greenburg chuckled. “Otherwise I don’t think you’d be here. If you meant anything to the wolf you’d think he would have tried to rescue you by now. But no one has come close to this place.”

Stiles ignored the roiling anger in his belly and he grit his teeth. “What else?”

“Why do you care about them so much that you would risk your life for them? There’s a reason that you’re not telling me everything that I want to know. There’s someone there that you’re protecting. There’s someone more than Erica, Isaac, Boyd or Derek. There’s more to the pack than you are letting on. You sure you want to go down this path?”  
Stiles let out a whimper before he looked up at Greenburg with tears in his eyes. He had already made a decision since he realized why he had been kidnapped. He couldn’t put them in danger. Not any more so than usual. “I love them.”

Greenburg clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Guess Chris doesn’t matter to you enough to save his life.”

Without warning Greenburg reared back and a meaty fist slammed into Stiles’ face. He was blacking out when he heard Greenburg’s voice echoing in his brain, “Sleep well Stiles.” 

 

~*~

When Stiles woke up he had been propped on his side against the wall and a pool of tacky blood and what was probably spit lay beneath his cheek. His pants had been changed and the cell smelled cleaner. There were some perks to being kidnapped by supernatural beings with an excellent sense of smell. 

He came to the conclusion that days had passed. It had to of been days. There were three bottles of water lying on their sides next to the bars. Every cell in his body felt like it fighting with another cell just to get some kind of sustenance but there wasn’t anything left that his body could give. 

Stiles had to fight himself to crawl over to the other side of the cell in order to sip at the water. He pushed passed the initial nausea of reintroducing the liquid to his dehydrated system. After he finished up one bottle he gave up. His hands were shaking so badly he could feel the burn of the jerky movements up into his arms. Laying back on his side, Stiles stared up at the ceiling wondering what had happened in the time that he had been knocked out. 

He didn’t know what had happened to Chris. He didn’t want to think about Chris not being alive. Somehow, Stiles knew the hunter had made it out and he’d be back with help soon. He had to of made it out. If Chris didn’t make it what was the point of everything? He had fucked up badly enough he didn’t need another dead body on his concious.

 

The next time Stiles woke up Greenburg was sitting in a chair in the middle of the cell. The door had been left wide open and there were no extra guards for Greenburg. Stiles felt his entire body shift in anger. He might be weak but he wasn’t weak enough to torture himself with the thought of escape at Greenburg’s amusement.   
“Are you going to tell me what I want to know or should I go pay Chris another visit?” Greenburg picked at his fingernails as if he were bored with the entire situation.   
Stiles just stared up at Greenburg, defiant and angry.

“Besides the names mentioned who’s involved? If Argent has kept his mouth shut just as tight as you had I can only assume that his daughter managed to get involved and that leads to one other person. Scott McCall.” 

Stiles saw red. Every ounce of energy Stiles had left in him, he could feel rushing to the surface and adrenaline surged through his body. With a harsh breath Greenburg had been knocked from his chair on was writhing on the floor gasping for air. Stiles moved to his knees and watched the way the tri-colored eyes bulged from their sockets and smooth skin started to mottle. At the last second Stiles let go. He couldn’t take his eyes from Greenburg and that was his mistake. One moment he was staring at Greenburg on the floor gasping for air and the next he had been hit so hard he couldn’t find his own breath. 

~*~

It was dark, darker than Stiles ever remembered it being in the cell when he woke up. Someone was in the cell with him. They were moving far too quietly to be one of his captors so it had to be someone else. 

“Hello?”

“Quiet, Stiles.”

Stiles jerked at the sound of Chris’s voice and then he flinched in pain when Chris grabbed hold of him beneath the arms and tried to get Stiles up to his feet. Stiles bit into his lower lip trying to find something else to focus on rather than the pain shooting across his ribs and the way his throat closed up. 

“I’ve got you. Just stay with me.” Chris whispered into Stiles’ ear as he tugged Stiles through the basement and to the main floor of where he had been held. All Stiles could think the entire time Chris was pulling him along was how could he have been held underneath a house that looked so normal. There were flowers on the dining room table and it made Stiles want to puke. After a while, he blacked out. He knew he was still moving but it was like he left his body in Chris’s hands. It was up to the hunter to get them out and Stiles was just putting one foot in front of the other. 

“Come on Stiles.”

The familiarity of the voice and the jostling of his body made Stiles force his eyes open. He was being half dragged by a limping Chris Argent through the woods. Stiles struggled to get his footing beneath him and he ignored the protesting muscles in his thighs as he moved with Chris as best as he could manage. 

“That’s it, keep moving,” Chris rasped out as he shouldered most of Stiles’ weight. 

“How?” Stiles gasped out as a branch jabbed into the soft arch of his foot. 

“Right now, we need to focus on getting as far away from that place as possible and then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” 

Stiles couldn’t be sure how long they stumbled through the woods. No matter how many times he wanted to stop and just rest Chris didn’t let him stop. They kept moving. They were moving through the woods until it got so dark Stiles could barely see anything in front of him. He didn’t think they were ever going to get out of the woods. They were just going to keep walking, going in circles and hoping to get out. 

The bright outline of trees slowly moving away from them gave Stiles hope. That was a set of headlights. It meant that they were getting close to a road. They were finally going to be out of the hell they had landed in. 

Stiles pushed himself harder ignoring the bursts of pain through his chest and the burn trailing up and down his back. He could hear Chris panting for air as they climbed up a slight hill. Stiles looked over at Chris and saw the determination in the set of the man’s jaw. They weren’t going to stop now. 

“Just a little further,” Chris huffed out, “I can hear the cars.”

Stiles blinked his eyes trying to focus on what Chris had said. They were almost there. He knew they were and he wasn’t going to give up now. He just couldn’t push himself any harder. He tripped over a root and stumbled. He grasped the torn him of Chris’s shirt and pushed a little further. They had made it onto the asphalt of the road before his grip   
loosened and he was falling. 

“Not yet,” Chris dropped to his knees besides Stiles. “You have to stay with me a little longer okay Stiles? You’re almost home. We’re going to make it and you can’t stop here.”

Stiles looked up into desperate eyes and whispered, “Not going anywhere. Not yet.”

 

~*~

Stiles woke up and for the first time in days he didn’t feel any pain. Instead of feeling like his skin was boiling off, he was freezing. He felt the weight of a hand on his wrist and another resting just above his ankle. Blinking his eyes clear Stiles saw he Dad half resting in a chair and his head was propped up on the bed. Looking further down the bed to see who was there he saw Chris Argent. The man was in a wheel chair with an IV pole and bag hanging above his head as he slept. 

They had made it out of there. He didn’t know how they both managed to make it out but they did. His Dad was sitting next to him waiting for him to wake up. Stiles would be able to talk to him again. He’d be able to tell his dad all the things he never thought he’d have a chance to ever say. 

And Chris? He made it. Worse for wear but there he was, sitting at the edge of the bed breathing and sleeping. His face was gaunt but Stiles figured he looked the same if   
not worse. He had never felt so damn happy in his life. Knowing that he was going to be able to go home and knowing that everything Chris did for him wasn’t for naught. They both made it.

The door opened and Stiles watched as the night nurse slipped into the room and double checked Chris’s IV before popping around the bed to check his. Stiles watched her as she moved silently and grabbed his charts to make notes. When she looked down she smiled softly at him. Stiles wanted to ask her how long that he had been here and what was wrong with him but she placed a finger to her lips and pointed towards Chris. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Chris was only getting rest when he was with Stiles. It might have been that they were taken together and held together that Chris needed to see Stiles or it could have been the father in Chris needed to make sure that Stiles was alive. Either way, it calmed Stiles down seeing him there.

 

The next time Stiles woke up it the blinds were open in the room and sun shone bright across his face. He hummed in contentment. It felt so good to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. He could smell coffee and the soft sound of papers rustling near him, the tell-tale sign that his father was near and working.

The warmth that was on his ankle the night before was still there. He looked down the bed and straight into the eyes of Chris Argent who was fiercely watching him.   
Chris’s lips curled upwards and his eyes began to water as he spoke, “Welcome back.”

Files and papers dropped the floor as the sheriff stood to look down at his son. “Stiles?”

Stiles looked up and smiled, “Dad.”

It didn’t take long to be wrapped into a tight hug listening to the sniffles coming from his Dad. “It’s so good to see you awake.”

Stiles chuckled, “It’s just good to see you.”

Once the room settled into an uncomfortable silence Stiles looked back towards Chris, “It’s really good to see you too.”

Chris nodded and set his hands on the grips on the wheel chair. “It’s really good to see you finally awake. I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’m sure Allison is tired of showing up to an empty room only to make her way down here.”

“Come back,” Stiles blurted out and put a hand over his mouth and darted a quick glance over to his father and back to Chris. “If that’s okay?”

Both Chris and the Sheriff shared a look before Chris nodded, “I’ll stop by after lunch. I’m sure you and your Dad have a lot to talk about.” 

Stiles watched as Chris wheeled himself out of the room and then finally looked back towards his Dad. Neither of them was sure what to say so Stiles did the one thing he was best at doing. He started asking questions. 

“How long have I been gone?” 

The sheriff rubbed a hand over his lips before answering, “A little over two months but you’ve been in the hospital for about a week and a half now.” 

“How bad was it when they found us?” Stiles asked softly. 

That was when Stiles knew it had to have been bad. His Dad started to tear up and there was no stopping it. “They had you on a vent the first three days and in ICU until yesterday.”

“What did they find?”

“Broken ribs, a fracture just below your right eye, your shoulder was dislocated, there are some stitches on your left wrist from the…” His Dad stumbled and Stiles knew what words he didn’t want to speak, the bindings they had used on him. “You were severely dehydrated, malnourished. The amount of weight you lost, it’s going to be hard, just you’re going to really listen to your doctors. Your right eye was also pretty infected but they did an antibiotic treatment to clear it up. It’s just a little swollen now.” 

Stiles looked at his wrist and grimaced. The black sutures curled around to the top of his arm. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been he supposed. He looked back up at his Dad, “Did Chris tell you anything?”

The sheriff shook his head, “He isn’t talking much. He uh, well, he hasn’t been doing too well unless he’s in here with you. The nurses had to sedate him the first few nights. Then he’d sneak in here and they gave up trying to get him to leave.”

“Is he okay? Like injury wise?” Stiles prompted. He needed to be sure that Chris was doing okay. 

“Other than the obvious,” The sheriff shrugged, “I haven’t asked him. I figured if he wasn’t talking about the time he was missing then he didn’t want to talk about any of it with me.”

Stiles started to panic. He needed to know what was wrong with Chris. He needed to be sure the other man was really okay that there weren’t any lingering injuries that they were both going to be okay. He needed to be sure. He couldn’t breathe. He saw his Dad standing above him and trying to get Stiles to focus on breathing but he couldn’t. He needed to see Chris. Stiles felt a sting in his arm before the world was spinning and went black.

 

When Stiles woke up Chris was sleeping in a bed next to his. He looked for his Dad but didn’t find him there. Instead he found a note saying his father had been told to go home by Melissa McCall and he would be back in the morning. Stiles looked over at Chris wondering how the other man was doing. He wanted so badly to wake Chris up, to talk to him but knew he shouldn’t. 

“You keep thinking that loudly you won’t have to worry about waking me up.” Chris rasped out as he shifted on his bed. “You okay?”

“What happened to you? Where did you go? How did you find me? Are you okay?” The questions darted from between Stiles’ lips faster this brain could keep up with. 

Chris held out a hand, “Slow down. If keep asking questions I’m not going to know where to start.”

Stiles nodded and licked his lips before deciding on the question he wanted answered first. “Are you okay?”

Chris scooted up on the bed so he was sitting up right. He let his hands fold together over his lap and his eyes remained glued to them as if he were afraid to look Stiles in the face. “I have a few wounds and most of them are superficial but there were a couple when Greenburg wasn’t all there in his head that did a lot of damage.”

Stiles ground his teeth together. “What did he do to you?”

“Stiles you don’t need to hear this.” Chris pleaded with Stiles not to continue on with his questions but Stiles wasn’t relenting. He needed to know what happened. There was something picking at his brain, demanding he know everything that went on while he wasn’t conscious. He needed to be sure Chris was going to heal. 

“Tell me.” 

“He stabbed me,” Chris answered Stiles. His body had turned from relaxed to taunt with tension. “He damaged my kidney bad enough it had to be removed.”

Stiles covered his mouth with his hand, horrified at what Chris must have been going through as he came back. Maybe if Chris wouldn’t have come back then he wouldn’t have gone through that. His kidney might have been damaged but there could have been something the doctors could have done rather than remove it. 

“My shoulder was dislocated, my wrist broken.” Chris’s voice softened and he looked Stiles in the eye. “The doctors said there was evidence of being tasered but I can’t really remember it that clearly.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“None of this is your fault and you know that.” Chris snarled. 

Stiles stared at invisible lint on his sheets before he had the courage to meet Chris’s gaze once again. “How did you get free?”

Chris held a fist up to his mouth and closed his eyes as tight as he could manage. His voice was a low rasp as he spoke. “I think they thought I was unconscious or maybe they thought I was dead. I can’t remember how long I lay there thinking if they would just leave I might be able to get the help we needed. I had to get help.”  
Stiles closed his eyes with Chris’s last statement. He understood what Chris was having a hard time saying. If he didn’t get help, if he hadn’t gotten Stiles out of that cell and the both of them towards the road like he had neither of them would have made it. Greenburg wouldn’t have allowed it. 

“I took a chance after it had been quiet for so long. I went back to the cell and the door was unlocked.”

Stiles slammed his eyes shut tightly at those words. The door was unlocked. He could have left. They could have left. Their will to escape dissolved in the pain that they endured. If they would have had the presence of mind to keep trying then they might not be as bad off as they were. They might have made it home so much faster.

Chris’s soft sniffling turned into body wracking sobs. Stiles ignored the ache in his bones as he scooted from his bed and over to Chris’s. The IV pole rattled so loud Stiles thought he might alarm someone as to his actions. He didn’t want to leave Chris in the state he was in. He didn’t deserve that. Stiles pulled the flimsy hospital sheets back and climbed into the bed with Chris. He wrapped an IV laden arm across Chris’s side and pressed his face into Chris’s neck. He just lay there willing Chris to calm down in some sort of peace. 

“The door was unlocked.”

Stiles flinched at the words and grasped the soft material of Chris’s shirt tight in his hand. “You didn’t know. We didn’t know.”

“I should have. I should have kept trying. I needed to get you out of there. I was supposed to get you home. But I didn’t. Not fast enough.” Chris’s breath was warm   
against Stiles’ cheek and Stiles took a deep breath, every bone in his body rattled with the force of it. 

“It had been weeks,” Stiles whispered. “We got out of there because of you. You saved us. You did that. You kept us alive. You took care of me. You saved me.”

Chris let out a raspy sigh, “I didn’t do anything Stiles. You saved us.”

 

The nurses didn’t like finding Stiles curled up with Chris. They got Stiles to speak with a doctor who beat around the bush but Stiles knew what he was asking. No, Chris hadn’t done anything wrong to him. There was no bad touch involved. Stiles wanted to scream at the doctors. Chris was the only thing that kept him grounded. He was the only person who took away the nightmares, the sounds that brought memories of pain flashing to the surface only to experience it all over again. 

When he was finally wheeled back into the room in the afternoon Chris was sitting hunched over in his bed with his head in his hands. He had barely looked up before he was apologizing to Stiles over and over again. Ignoring the nurse trying to get him back into his own bed Stiles guided the chair over to Chris’s bed and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. Stiles let his nose bury deep in Chris’s stomach as he sat in the chair. He kept muttering whatever he could think of to get Chris to stop apologizing. There was nothing for him to apologize for. If there was Stiles wouldn’t let Chris get away with anything. He’d force the older man to apologize if it were necessary. But there were no need for his apologies. They fell on deaf ears because all Stiles was worried about was making sure Chris was okay. 

After a few moments Stiles listened to the soft tones of the nurse telling them that they needed rest and she ushered Stiles into Chris’s bed without a second thought. The door closed with a soft snick before Chris wrapped his arms around Stiles. He didn’t care what anyone thought of this. They needed each other more now than ever. Sometimes you can’t heal on your own and you need someone to heal alongside with. Stiles wasn’t afraid to admit that maybe this is the time he needed Chris, more than ever, because if they made it out of hell with each other they could make it back to the real world.

 

They slept for a few hours. Even the smallest emotional break-downs had both of them exhausted to the point of not wanting to move a muscle. Stiles curled so his back was pressed against Chris’. As soon as Stiles felt the way the man was breathing change Stiles turned to face him. Chris didn’t move though, he remained facing the wall. Stiles placed a hand between Chris’ shoulder blades and curled his fingers into the fabric before he spoke. 

“What did you mean when you said I saved us?” Stiles’ voice was soft and Chris could barely hear him over the whir of the air conditioning and the sounds echoing in the hallway.   
Chris closed his eyes as he answered Stiles, not wanting for the boy who he was supposed to save know that he almost got them both killed. He didn’t want Stiles to know he failed them both. 

“I don’t know how much you remember but I had barely gotten us to the door and gotten the door open before Greenburg was there with the guards he had watching us. I could barely hold you up and they were so close.

Then you, you did something. You got so hot that I had to let you go. Even when you were on the floor you didn’t stop. You just stared at me, your eyes got so dark and everything got so loud. I could barely focus and you just smiled and told me it’s going to be okay Chris. I’ve got you this time. All your veins, they turned black and the next thing I knew Greenburg and the guards were on the floor. Blood was coming out of their ears and I don’t think they were breathing. I didn’t stop to check I just grabbed you up off of the floor and started to run. You passed out when we managed to get to the road. It took a while for anyone to drive but eventually we got help.”

Stiles stared at his hands curled into the fabric of Chris’ hospital gown and shook his head clear trying to process what he had been told. “Are they dead?”

Chris nodded, “Your dad went back to where we were held and they were all dead. He told me the coroner ruled the deaths due to an aneurysm. It was the only logical explanation for it and it closed the case.”

“Has anyone tried to visit besides Dad?” Stiles swallowed down his fear of being rejected by the people he had considered family. 

“The hospital staff won’t let them. It’s a critical period to make sure your body is healing and you’re getting enough rest. Your Dad thought it would cause more stress than you could take at the moment. Seeing the people who were supposed to protect you and who would be best able to find us and they hadn’t. He was afraid of what seeing them might do to you.” 

Stiles let go of Chris’ shirt and rolled on his back to look up at the ceiling. “I have to see them eventually. He can’t keep me hidden away in here for forever. I’ll be discharged soon enough. I can’t hide forever.”

“But you want to.” Chris whispered knowing exactly how Stiles was feeling. He understood that as soon as they walked out of the hospital doors that every person out there, every person they thought were their friends, they were going to treat them differently. No one would really know what to do around them. Every touch, every word that was said a little too loud, would put both of them on edge. 

Stiles finally answered back, “But I can’t. I need to see them even if I don’t want to. If I don’t see any of them until I leave then I might not ever be okay again.”

“You will,” Chris blindly reached out and grabbed for Stiles’ wrist and held tightly. “You will be okay.”

 

Stiles thought it might take more work to convince all of his doctors that he was ready to see his friends but all it took was him opening up and saying it was time to see them. His Dad made a phone call and before Stiles could take a breath Scott, Derek, Danny, Lydia, Jackson, Allison and even Peter were all by his bed. He could feel the tension melding together around him and it was hard to take. None of them knew what to do or what to say. They just stared at him.

Stiles knew this would happen. He figured it out when they let him turn on the television to see the news reports about his condition and how he and Chris were found. There was more information out there about Chris because he was legally an adult and Stiles wasn’t but if the people of Beacon Hills knew the extent of Chris’ injuries then they wouldn’t doubt that Stiles was in similar condition; that he had experienced the same torture that Chris had been through. So, yeah, Stiles knew that people would stare at him. Just like he knew that he would have to answer the same question over and over a million times, if he was okay. He would have to nod his head and say he was fine, that he had enough people to talk things through with. 

Things had changed and they weren’t ever going to go back to how they once were. Swallowing the lump of anxiety down, he sat up straighter in his bed and looked each of the wolves in the eye. “Where the fuck are my hugs?”

Scott was the only one who burst out in laughter before wrapping his arms around Stiles. He huffed and sniffled before the sniffles became deeper and Stiles knew what Scott was doing and it pissed him off. Scott had no right. No right at all to be upset here. The only person who should be crying was him. They didn’t listen to another person being tortured within an inch of their life because they chose not to answer questions They didn’t share a pitiful bottle of water and stale peanut butter sandwiches with. They didn’t do any of that! He did! It was him and Chris who deserved to cry! Not Scott. With an angry growl, Stiles shoved Scott off of him, his chest heaving in fury. 

Scott looked confused at the way Stiles pushed him away. Stiles looked away from them and faced the window. Maybe he wasn’t ready to see his friends yet. If he got so angry for something like that then what would he do when people he didn’t really know reacted like this? Who would he hurt in the process of healing?  
Burying his face in his hands Stiles whispered out his apologies and the thought that he was hurting someone he loved and cared for, for so long, had broken something in him. He was broken and it would take a long time for any of his wounds to heal. What had happened to him was so wrong and he knew that. He didn’t make any of this happen. He didn’t ask for anyone to torture him. It happened. It just happened.

He didn’t realize Scott had returned holding him until his sobbing had stopped. He recognized the warm press of palms from the rest of the pack on his back offering what little comfort they could. They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t prod at him to talk. They just sat with him in the quiet.

When Stiles felt his heartbeat slow and fatigue set in he found the words that he had been so desperately grasping for from the moment he woke up in the hospital. He looked out the window not wanting the rest of the pack to see him so weak when he finally spoke the words out loud. “What do I do now?”

Stiles didn’t get an answer. He wasn’t really expecting one but for once in his life he was hoping that someone would say something, give him any inkling of an idea of what he could do. There was no answer, no guidance as to what Stiles was supposed to do next.


End file.
